““What did she just say?” Gaia was sitting behind a very large, very expensive mug of coffee across from Ed and squinting at the band that was playing in the far corner. Gaia was happy to ignore them. She’d seen plenty of unplugged garage bands in her day. But these weird snippets of songs kept floating into her consciousness and sticking there the way raspberry seeds stuck in her molars. “Huh?” Ed asked. “That singer. Did you hear the words?” Gaia asked. Ed strained to listen over the clink of ...spoons and the hissing of the cappuccino machine. “Something about a lobotomy.” “You’re joking,” Gaia declared. Ed gave her a puzzled look. “If so, it wasn’t a very funny joke.” “No, I mean, she didn’t actually say lobotomy.” “Okay, she didn’t.” Ed shrugged. “Why does it matter?” Gaia stirred her coffee. “Never mind.” She studied the singer. She looked a little like Ashley Judd before the makeup went on. An East Village version, anyway, with a wool stocking cap, hair so messy it was coagulating into dreads, and a tattoo of a spider that perched on her collarbone.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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